The Mystery
by anythingiwant
Summary: Harry gets his nose broken on the Hogwarts Express.  His rescue is a little more passionate than he expected.  Harry wants to find out who his mystery rescuer is but will his expectations once more be broken? HP/DM *Not a spoof like my other story*
1. The Kiss

Harry lay crouched on top of the luggage rack, covered in the invisibility cloak. He thought if he sat in the Slytherin compartment long enough, Malfoy would say something about becoming a Death Eater. Yet, they were arriving at Hogwarts and the Slytherins hadn't talk about anything but money and how they spent it on their summer vacations. Harry was planning to make his escape when the Slytherins left the compartment. It should be any minute now. Crabbe reached up for his suitcase, smacking Harry in the process. Harry tried not to make a noise, but a muffled groan escaped him. Malfoy jerked his head toward the rack. He could sense something wasn't right.

Everyone started to file out of the room.

"Hey, I'm going to hang back a minute. You know, make a grand entrance. See you guys inside," said Malfoy.

Harry closed his eyes. He knew the worst was upon him.

Harry fell from the luggage rack, paralyzed in the crouched position. Since when did Malfoy know wordless freezing charms?

He heard Malfoy's footsteps approach him and stop by his side. Malfoy's foot came down hard on his nose. He could hear the sickening crunch of cartilage. "Got to be sure no one finds you." He heard Malfoy whisper. He felt the invisibility cloak cover him.

Malfoy walked off, leaving Harry alone and bleeding, stuck on the Hogwarts Express.

A few minutes later, Harry heard someone approaching the compartment. Footsteps walked over to where he was standing and someone removed the cloak. His eyes were stuck shut from the spell and he couldn't tell who was there to help him. He felt his nose magically repair itself as a figure loomed over his face.

Harry felt the figure getting closer and closer, perhaps to examine the nose. Then the unexpected happened. His face was caressed with love; his hair moved out of his eyes, blood cleaned off of the bridge of his nose. Then he felt a pair of soft lips press against his. Who could this mystery person be? Cho? Hermione? Who would come back and rescue him? The idea of Ron flitted through his mind for a moment and he quickly cast it aside.

Harry felt a longing course through his veins but he could not respond to the kiss. He desperately wished for the spell to be broken. He felt something smooth cover his eyes. He was being blindfolded. His mystery kisser truly wished to remain a mystery.

Suddenly he could move again. This must be an advanced wizard to know so much wordless magic. He wrapped his arms around the figure and let his fingers grasp their hair. It was shaggy, slightly long but not very. Definitely not Hermione and hopefully still not Ron. The kiss got heated with both bodies grasping to one another. Harry let his hand explore their back and bottom. This person was muscular and hot to the touch. Maybe it was a Quidditch player. Feeling daring, Harry reached his fingers to the chest of his attacker. He found it to be rather flat. He hoped it wasn't a first year, that would be awkward. Maybe this person didn't have a very big chest. Who was Harry to pass judgment on a stranger?

Just as suddenly as the passion had begun, it ended. The figure rose off of Harry and darted from the compartment before Harry had a chance to remove the blindfold.

Harry made his way into the Great Hall. Everyone was staring, whispering. Harry hoped it wasn't because he looked thoroughly snogged. As he sat down he noticed Malfoy arriving at the Slytherin table.

"Do you think he was up to something?" Harry whispered to Hermione.

"I wouldn't count on it Harry," Hermione responded. "After all, you were late and you weren't up to anything. He probably just wanted to make a grand entrance."


	2. The Note

A week passed and Harry had no clue as to the identity of his mystery kisser. However, he wanted to meet her again. He already told Ron and Hermione about the incident, leaving out the heated details of the kiss and describing it as a more chaste experience. Hermione suggested writing a note and posting it in the common room.

She means well, but sometimes Hermione's intellect lacks in the area of love.

As it turned out, Harry did not need to do anything, over the weekend he received a note:

Dear Harry,

That kiss was... for lack of a better word: magical. Would you care to repeat it? I know I would. Please meet me at the top of the Astronomy Tower at 11 pm tonight. Wear a blindfold. Once I see that it is securely in place I will meet you. I want to keep my identity a secret for a little while longer.

Sincerely yours,

Anonymous

He could not wait for tonight. Harry raced over to Ron and Hermione to show them the note. Hermione performed a few spells but couldn't find out anything about the author. Harry considered taking his invisibility cloak. Then, he could search for the girl before she realized he was there. However, something inside of him told him to wait. Harry loved the mystery and although he was dying to know who it was, the mystery was enthralling.

Exactly at 11pm Harry stood in the Tower. He reached into his back pocket and took out a piece of cloth, his blindfold. After tying it securely around his face, he waited. It did not take long for his mystery date to emerge. Harry felt hot breath cross over the nape of his neck. A small kiss was planted under his ear. The figure moved to face Harry. The embrace that followed was furious. The two grabbed for each other, clinging. Hands were rubbing up and down, lips colliding and tongues battling for dominance. They were panting in a few minutes, taking a break to collect themselves.

Harry broke the silence. "Can you tell me who you are?"

There was no response.

"Can you tell me anything about you?"

Still, silence hung in the air.

Harry tried again. "If you want, you can answer without words. Then I won't hear your voice." He waited for a response but none came. "Kiss me on the mouth if the answer is yes. Kiss me anywhere else if the answer is no."

Harry tipped backwards slightly as a forceful kiss came to press against his lips.

"Okay, I think I like this game. Are you my age?"

Harry received another kiss to the lips, allowing this kiss to linger for several moments.

"Do you like me?"

Harry could tell that was a stupid question the second his mystery man's lips, once again caressed his. Man's? Harry's thoughts became flustered. Why would he think of a man in this situation?

"Are you in my House?"

This time, the kiss did not touch his lips. Instead, the kiss was on his lower neck. The mystery person did not stop there. They let their tongue and teeth explore Harry's neck, surely leaving a mark.

"Do you play Quidditch?"

The kiss came back up to his mouth.

"Are you… a girl?" The obvious question that Harry desperately needed the answer to.

The kiss did not return to his lips. It traveled south, very south, coming to rest on his uncovered hip. The lips did not return but rather stayed at his hip, waiting.

Harry desperately tried to think of questions where the answer would be no.

"Do you like girls?"

The kiss traveled lower, resting just under his hip. He felt his pants being undone and pushed down.

"Do you hate magic?"

The kiss landed on the waistband of his boxer-briefs.

Harry paused for a moment, his crazed thoughts and racing heart realizing: bloody hell, could this be Ron?


	3. The Talk

Harry backed up several paces. His brain was flooded with thoughts: I like guys. I really like guys. I'm gay. Please, do not let this be Ron. I am so bloody fucked if this is Ron. I will never be able to look at him again. Maybe it isn't Ron. I'm can't believe I am gay. If it isn't Ron who is it? Who do I want it to be? Cho did always look a little masculine.

He shook his head, trying to clear the labyrinth his mind had become. It was all too confusing. He lifted his hands up to his blindfold and tugged it down. His eyes scanned the tower but he found himself alone.

Harry walked back to the common room, disappointed let his overworked mind stop him from enjoying some of the best kisses he ever had in his life. He spotted Hermione and Ron sitting at the table by the fire, Ron asleep on a piece of parchment. Thank goodness. There was definitely no way Ron could be his mystery man. Ron was his best mate and Harry wanted it to stay that way. Being gay was turning out to be quite confusing. Harry loved Ron, but he loved him as a friend, right?

"Harry! You got back past curfew! I know you were meeting your secret admirer, but you really mustn't put your school career in jeopardy" Hermione berated.

"I know. But listen, I need your help. I still have no idea who this admirer is!" Harry walked over to the couch, sinking into the crimson cushions and letting his head fall into his hands.

"But haven't you snogged them?"

"Yes, Hermione, I snogged them but my tongue does not have a DNA tester attachment."

She looked sheepish. "Sorry, I just thought you would be able to tell from the way it made you feel."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, surely if you liked the snog it brought a few people to mind. Maybe your admirer is someone you admire yourself." Hermione said, her voice reaching that analytical tone where everything she says is completely spot on.

"At first on the train I thought it might be Cho… or even you."

"That makes sense, those are two people who you care a lot about."

"I thought of Ron too."

"Ronald! He certainly isn't your type."

"I realize that Hermione. He was just someone who came to mind! Why shouldn't Ron be my type anyway? What is so wrong about liking boys?" Harry was fuming. He thought Hermione of all people would understand him and accept him for who he was.

"I'm sorry Harry, you misunderstood. I meant that Ron is not your type of person. He is your best friend, not really boyfriend material. I've seen the way you look at Ron and there is not a drop of lust behind that gaze."

"Good. I was worried. I thought maybe he was my best friend because I just… I don't know… wanted him so much or something."

"That is completely ridiculous Harry."

"I see that now, no need to push it Hermione."

"Sorry, sorry. Let's get on with the facts. What is it you know about this person?"

"Well," Harry let his mind go to the question and answer game he played just an hour before. He was so into the kisses, he wasn't particularly listening to the answers. "I know they like me."

"That's a start I suppose. I need something a little more substantial to go on."

"They play Quidditch and they're in our year. And they are bloody fantastic at wordless magic."

"Alright this is a good start. There are only a few Quidditch players in our year. Do you know their house?"

Harry let his mind wander back to the game, pausing as he remembered each scorching kiss.

"Earth to Harry? Are you there?"

"Sorry, got side-tracked. He is not in our house." Another wave of relief washed over Harry. It definitely wasn't Ron and it couldn't be Neville! Besides, Neville can't play Quidditch, let alone mount a broom. Harry smirked at the double entendre that came to mind. His mind clearly wanted to believe the worst in this admirer. Why would Harry deserve someone he wanted?

"So it is a he?" Hermione prodded, breaking Harry's reverie.

"Yes, it's a boy." Harry said, rolling his eyes while emphasizing each word like a hospital baby balloon.

"Are there any boys you fancy?"

"You mean besides Ron of course?" Harry joked, elbowing Hermione and provoking a few girlish giggles.

Ron turned his head, lifting it slightly off of the parchment to say: "Keep it down, Mom. I am fighting dragons."

Hermione and Harry burst into another fit of laughter. "So that is what he dreams about."

"Seriously now Harry, who do you fancy?"

"I don't want to say."

"Then why have I been helping you with this situation? You can surely trust me now. I mean I just learned you were afraid you were in love with Ron. If I can handle that I can handle anything."

"Here is the part where you say: 'I can handle anything. Unless of course you fancied…' and then you will say the name of the boy I am obsessed with."

"Harry, you're being silly. I can't think of a single boy I would not be ecstatic for you to date… Unless of course you fancied Malfoy. But really, how could you after everything he has done."

Harry's face fell.

"Really? You fancy Malfoy?"

Harry nodded.

"The same greasy git who tried to have Hagrid fired, Buckbeak killed, and has mocked you and everyone you care about since the moment he laid eyes on you."

"That's the one Hermione."

"In that case, I can see how you would prefer it to be Ron." She smiled slightly, trying to let a bit of humor ease the situation and Harry's obvious anguish.

"Since the moment he laid eyes on me, I was addicted. His silver eyes bore into my mine and I had to know everything about him." Harry said, a far off look in his eyes.

"Do you think your admirer is the Slytherin King himself?"

"Doubt it. With my luck it's probably Snape."

"Honestly, Harry. At least try to have a positive attitude. Although I have seen Snape stare at you a little too long."

"Bad images are forming in my mind that I may never be able to erase. Thank you, Hermione. On that note I think I will head to bed." Harry stood, stretching his shoulders.

Hermione held him back for a moment. "I want you to know that I support you Harry. Even if it is Malfoy."

Harry pulled Hermione into a warm embrace. "Thank you. That means the world to me."

AN: Thanks for the reviews. I hope this chapter cleared up any confusion! Happy Story Hunting.


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